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Exasperation flows all over me When I hear them giggling behind me It occurs to me that They are happier than me
I knew it when she touched your shoulder And I Walked into the public bathroom alone And the distinct smell of Urine and nail polish remover filled Me with a sense of urgency to Finish quickly
Do you really know yourself Do you accept yourself for who you really are
Dear Sam, Sometimes I'm not sure if I miss you or the way you made me feel. Sometimes I'm not sure if I can live another second without feeling the way you made me feel. Sometimes I'm not sure how you really made me feel.
Dear Body Mind and Soul, First off, let me thank you for all that you do, despite all that I don't.
When I was 13, a boy told me this is how you kiss, that gifts show affection, and that this is love. I started laying bricks down.
A mist of sawdust moved by the exhalation of a sleeping craftsman With a start he wakes blinking in the late afternoon sun that slinks its way through the drowsy shack
A six year old girl ran to the bathroom And stretched Scotch tape from her eyes to her ears To make herself as pretty as girls society consumes To hide her insecurities, and fears
I am me, I am a brown haired girl
No filter? No problem. I can still be as pretty, I can still be as nice!
F or those who lose sleep over the opinion of sheep, L ose a sene of self-respect. A dmiration for the things I have done W ill never define who I truly am. L eadership fuels my body on a daily basis, however
“Look at her, what she does, atrocious, repulsive, how wrong.” Numbly I agree, since the talks not about me, Yet if I had the choice, I’d speak my inner voice to those who judge blindly.
You are more than this.Than glamour magazines.Than women on the runway.Than girls at the makeup counter.
She used to be beautiful. The kind of beauty that Really mattered- A kind soul, Self-worth found in every moment And the courage to stand up for those who can’t defend themselves,
Those poor girls, this poor me trying to navigate womanhood not knowing which way to look,
Her self-confidence is built on the foundations of Facebook and Twitter
Respect comes in many forms Being quiet while someone else is talking Saying please and thank you Holding the doors for others All forms of respecting others
It was as a child I learned I was happy. There was only the present moment, and there was never any pressure, no ideals to conform to, no desire to impress.
Growing. That's a scary thing to do. We don't realize that every day we change, little nuances in the way we move or speak. The way we cross the street.
This poem is dedicated, to all those ladies out there who ever made it. Those ladies aren't Malibu, their skin is hardly medicated. Those ladies aren't rich or famous Those ladies are you, me and us.